Hear With My Eyes, Speak With My Hands
by Lina Inverse the Dramata
Summary: The Boy Who Lives comes togwarts for his first year, but there was something the wizarding world didn't know about Harry, and now they have to choose between teaching him or sending him back to the Dursley's.
1. Chapter One: The Sorting

Author Notes: (Dec 25 2004) I re-read, edited, and in some areas re-wrote this so that it made more sense. Like him being examined Pomfrey. Thanks for reading!

Hear With My Eyes, Speak With My Hands

Chapter One

The Sorting 

Harry nervously looked up from the throng of children surrounding him, and up to the woman who had said her name was Professor McGonagall. She had them stop before a three legged stool in front of a large, long table filled with professor's and then had pulled out a piece of parchment, her face half covered, children slowly one by one went up, and had the hat placed on their head. As soon as the hat's 'mouth' said a word he could not see, because of the children in front of him, they'd move to their table.

He was much smaller and skinnier than those around him and being in the far back he had given up trying to see what was going on and instead decided to look at the others around him. He watched Hermione Granger go up and he lost a bit of his view on her, so he turned to his new friend, Ron. Ron had been very nice to him, and it had been pleasant being told about Ron's family life and sharing sweets with him. When that boy, Draco Malfoy, had entered their compartment and had obviously insulted his new found friend, he had refused Draco's hand, remaining silent and only giving him a cool gaze which read quite plainly that Harry was not about to shake that boy's hand.

Now here they were, and while Hermione and Ron had been rather curious to know why he hadn't spoken a word and had written to them on a pad instead, he didn't bother to correct them from their assumption that he was sick and just could not speak at the moment. (Hermione, fully believing he was sick had taken to a five minute explanation about medicinal magic and that she was sure the school nurse would be able to fix him up in a heartbeat. Harry somehow doubted that.)

He had been looking at a girl with black hair when he felt Ron elbow him a bit painfully. Harry mouthed the word 'Ow' and gave Ron a dirty look of indignation. Ron was looking at him wide eyed and mouthed the words; "It's YOUR turn, go up there!"

Harry blinked in surprise and realized it was, and then he noticed most the children were now staring at him in confusion, so he quickly pushed his way to Professor McGonagall who told him to sit down on the stool. He did, and when the crowd disappeared as the hat was firmly placed round his head, for the first time in his life, for as far as he could remember he heard a voice speak to him.

'Ah, difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where should I put you?'

'I don't know,' Harry said in his mind, 'There are different places I can go?'

'Oh my, how thoughtless of me... Of course, you missed my song... well, there's Gryffindor for the brave of heart, their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindor's apart. Then there is Hufflepuff where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuff are true and unafraid of toil. Ravenclaw is for if you've a ready mind, where those of wit and learning will always find their kind. And last their is Slytherin, where you might make your real friends, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends...'

'Did Hermione get put into Ravenclaw?' Harry thought at the hat curiously.

'That darling girl has a brilliant mind, she will get very far... But her desire and destiny have set her with the Gryffindor's.'

'Wow... Slytherin sounds interesting.... A bit foreboding though...'

'Well my child, if things were different you'd have a very good chance of succeeding highly in Slytherin, but no, I'm afraid it would be way too dangerous to leave you in their hands with you like this. No, the place that you will nourish and grow the best would be in Gryffindor. I wonder how long it will take those fools to realize what is truly the matter with you, seeing as you've not told them yet-'

There was a moment of silence and then the hat was pulled from his head and light flooded his eyes once more. He glanced to McGonagall who was looking back expectantly so he slid off the stool and looked at her curiously.

She looked back, frowning that he was still there, so he finally decided to speak with her.

'Where do I go?' he signed with his hands.

Author Notes: If you bothered reading this maybe you could leave a review? PRETTY please?

Bad? Good? Weird? Am I crazy for starting another story? Do tell!


	2. Chapter Two: He's Deaf

A/N: Down when Harry is speaking with Dumbledore, ALL of what Harry signs Dumbledore is saying out loud for the teachers so they can know what is being discussed between Albus and Harry.

Hear With My Eyes, Speak With My Hands

Chapter Two

He's Deaf 

McGonagall now favored _him _with a very bewildered look.

"I beg your pardon Mr. Potter?"

Harry repeated what he had signed at her. Unfortunately this did not solve the problem nor answer her question. What he didn't hear, was Hermione Granger exclaiming aloud in shock, "That's sign language he's using, he's deaf, Professor McGonagall!"

All around him (though he could not hear them) were gasps, whispers and looks of shock and bewilderment. The Boy - Who - Lived couldn't hear or speak from what they were gathering.

McGonagall was favoring him with a look of surprise and confusion, concern also. "Child, are you deaf?"

Harry nodded his head.

"Then how do you know what I am saying, Mr. Potter?" she asked in disbelief, not wanting to believe what this conversation was telling her.

Harry motioned with his hands to her mouth and then signed out, _'I can read lips.'_

"He can read lips, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said. McGonagall turned to him in astonishment, which made Harry glance over to where she was looking. The man with the white hair who was wearing elegant robes, stood and then signed to Harry while speaking out loud at the same time so that Harry could read both his lips and hands.

"Harry, my name is Professor Dumbledore, are you able to speak in anyway aside from with your hands?"

Harry smiled recognizing the name and stepped away from McGonagall and nearer to Dumbledore. It was at that moment he realized that all the teachers were looking at him, he kept eye contact with the Headmaster and signed out, _'I can only speak with my hands sir, I've not ever been able to hear, I'm not sure how to speak with my mouth.'_

"I see, Harry, you have been sorted into Gryffindor," the teachers and children in the room watched in amazement as Dumbledore's hands moved gracefully, speaking to the boy in a language a good portion of them could not understand. "The Gryffindor table is the last one to your right, please sit down, and after dinner I will need you to come with me so that the teachers, you, and I can discuss some important issues."

'Thank you, Headmaster,' Harry smiled gratefully and quickly descended the two steps down to the main floor, he sat across from Hermione who was looking at him in astonishment.

The sorting continued and Hermione asked him quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry gave her a sad smile and in one look conveyed his message, _'I didn't think you'd understand.'_

He glanced up to the teacher's table and saw a man in black robes with lank black hair was looking at him strangely. As if thinking over something rather deeply. Harry hoped the teacher wasn't thinking about him, the last thing he needed was attention brought to his... Harry looked away from him to the children and did his best to pay attention and clap when needed.

Dinner was magnificent; all though the start of the year notices were rather disturbing. (Such as the one about the third floor corridor for example. Was Dumbledore serious?) And luckily, now that Dumbledore knew he was deaf, everything he said, he signed, in respect for Harry. Even more disturbing was, what did the teachers need to discuss with him? Was his being deaf a problem?

He hoped not. This was going to be hard enough as it was. To learn magic and be deaf? Harry hoped it could be done. But from the impression Hagrid had given him, Dumbledore could do anything.

Perhaps the professors here would have to take time out to tell him what to do specifically? Maybe he'd be made to take separate classes?

He remembered with quiet distaste at how his relatives had taken care of the fact he'd been deaf. When he'd been little, they'd assumed he was just a quiet boy. When he wouldn't come when they ordered- - they assumed he was stupid to top it off. Dudley had always had a store of rude degrading words waiting for Harry whenever he could manage to get Harry alone.

And instead of taking him to a specialist who could help him, or to a school that could help him- - they'd just not taken him to preschool and by the time he'd been put into kindergarten he'd been six years old and there had been absolutely no training. No schooling. No anything.

And when the school had found out he was deaf- -

Well the fuss they made was enough that they decided to 'home school' him. (Petunia had been none too thrilled about it and made sure that he was just as miserable about the situation as she was.) Still clinging to their money but not ready to face the consequences of having a deaf child in their home. And while home schooling did get them out of most their problems they still had to pay for a teacher to teach him sign language three times a week for a year before the school system would leave them alone (and other 'problem associations' as Uncle Vernon had called them).

By the time he was seven he was able to do simple writing, it was painstakingly slow and frustrating due to the fact spelling had been a problem... but Sign Language had been like a blessing from God, as had been learning how to write (even if he preferred one above the other).

Learning to read.... Well, Harry just tried blocking that out of his mind. The important thing was he could read. And write. And communicate by sign language. And granted he had to teach himself most of what he needed, he had done it.

He hoped that they wouldn't make him leave. He just couldn't go back to the Dursley's, he just couldn't.

Maybe if they knew what he'd gone through just to learn how to communicate with people they'd keep him because of how hard he'd worked to get to where he was today.

When the students had been told to sing the words to the school song Harry looked around nervously and decided to sign the words, some of which were so odd he had to spell out. He earned a few looks but they were of curiosity for they had never seen someone sign before.

The prefects were starting to lead the children away and as Harry stood he saw Professor McGonagall gesture towards him to come to her. He watched as all the professors including Hagrid, walk through a doorway off to the side. Which McGonagall was leading him to also. The room he was led to was lit up brightly by candles with a fire in the fireplace. Most the teachers had taken seats on the couches and chairs, the rest were standing up, leaning against the walls. Dumbledore stood by the fire; two empty seats were in front of the fireplace as well.

"Harry come here," Dumbledore said and signed to Harry. Harry went over to him and was offered to sit down, Harry did and Dumbledore sat in the chair before him. "I know you must be wondering why I asked you here instead of allowing you to go to the common room for the first time with your year mates."

Harry nodded.

"Well Harry, there are a few questions I need to ask you, first... How long have you been deaf?"

Harry signed to him and Dumbledore, for the sake of those around him spoke what Harry was 'Saying' as he signed, _"The doctors said I've been deaf ever since I was a year old or so."_

Dumbledore's eyes darkened but he continued onto the next question, "Do they know how you became deaf?"

"_They reckon that the car accident I was in that killed my parents, was responsible."_

The teachers around them seemed a bit disturbed and were moving their mouths quickly and Harry saw Hagrid move his arms and speak something he didn't catch. "I see." Dumbledore said to Harry, he was now frowning, "Do you mean to tell me that your parents died in a car crash?"

"_That's what my Aunt Petunia said. That's how I got my scar."_

"That's not true!" roared Hagrid, this time Harry could make out the words and could see the anger in Hagrid's eyes.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid your aunt was lying to you Harry, they did not die in a car crash, they were murdered by a dark wizard by the name of Voldemort."

"_What?!" _Harry's eyes were wide, _"But why would he want to kill them?!"_

"For reasons I cannot tell you right now Harry... But right now we have to deal with a more important problem. Whether or not we can keep you in this school."

Harry was speechless.

McGonagall stepped forward and Harry watched her as she spoke, "We can't teach him the things he would need to learn, Headmaster, Transfiguration for a mute boy? If he cannot say the words he can't cast the spell!"

Another little man piped up and Harry was finding that he had to look at many different places to keep track of who was speaking, "And charms would be impossible to teach him as well, if he can't speak the words properly there's no chance the spells will work!"

Many of the teachers were nodding in agreement and Harry felt his stomach bottom out, the feeling of nausea was slowly creeping up on him. Gripping his hands together he looked up as another teacher voiced his agreement with the other two. Harry was going paler with each objection.

The next one to speak was Quirrell, "I- I a-agree, P-P-Potter w-would not be a-able to- to c-cast the d-d-defensive spells needed to p-prot-tect the o-ones ar-around hi- him or him-se-self, f-for th-that m-mat-ter."

Harry's mouth had dropped slightly and he slowly began shaking his head, he turned to the black haired professor who he had been told was called 'Professor Snape' and saw the Professor was giving him a stern closed off look.

"The boy would have no problem with Herbology though!" a short woman commented, the ghost next to her nodded his head.

"Or History-"

"It doesn't take hearing to ride a broom really, as long as you're careful. And if balance is a problem, he can learn the basics through time. All you need is a little extra practice."

"But Divination would be almost impossible for him-"

Harry was now standing up eyes wide in fear as he turned to Professor Dumbledore who stood up with him. Frantically Harry signed, trembling almost, _"You can't send me back! I- I want to stay here! Don't you understand?! I can't go back to the Dursley's! Please keep me here!"_

Dumbledore spoke the words for the teachers to hear and some seemed a bit upset, although resolute. How could they speak to a deaf boy they couldn't understand?

"Harry, these are serious things we have to consider-" Dumbledore began. Harry cut him off with a movement of his hands and urgently, and in _anger_, began signing back to him, a glare on his face as Dumbledore spoke out Harry's 'words'.

"_YOUR school sent me a letter telling me I would be taught here- - WELCOME here, as I wasn't in my own home. I was given HOPE that I could live somewhere where I wouldn't be picked on or beaten! I was given new clothes, things that actually belonged to me! And a chance for something better! If you send me away the only thing you've done is LIED to me, Professor Dumbledore! And I am SICK of being lied to!"_

Professor Dumbledore was distraught over the turn of events, and those teachers around him were feeling a bit guilty at what Harry had said. They hadn't known he was deaf, and they HAD welcomed him... It was true then what Harry was saying. But they also were afraid of trying to teach a child that couldn't hear what they were saying. It would take special effort and more time for them to do so.

"But it wasn't a lie, Mr. Potter, we didn't know of your... Condition."

"_Then you obviously haven't been paying very much attention to my family life have you?! Whose idea was it to send me to the Dursley's? How many of YOUR children, or the children that go here, have been forced to live in a closet for the first ten years of their life?! BEATEN for not understanding what's going on around them?! And been denied proper education and medical attention because their 'Guardians' were to stingy to part with their money for the hated burden that was forced on them?!"_

Harry hated discussing his family life, or informing anyone about it. But this was his one chance at being treated humanely; going back to the Dursley's was insane. So to him, it felt as if he were fighting for his life. A chance for freedom at something he'd never had.

Dumbledore stopped translating and Harry was heaving in deep breaths quickly, tears threatened to spill over his eyes.

"Harry-" Dumbledore stumbled over his words for a moment, startling most the teachers, he then continued to sign and speak to him, "I - I chose for you to go there." Harry's eyes widened as if he had just been slapped, which felt like a stab to Dumbledore, "I didn't know- _think _they would hurt you or neglect you! They were your relatives-"

"Oo ated e!" Harry yelled. The teachers jumped slightly. Harry's words were slurred, his vowels mispronounced, and they sounded a bit nasally, but it was the first time he had spoken. And while it hadn't been close to perfect, his words were understood. 'Who Hated me.'

"Harry-" Dumbledore repeated.

"_I was promised something wonderful and unique, the most wonderful gift I've ever been given in my life, and now you're saying that I can't have it! I came here to learn! I want to learn! I've never been to school before this! If you're not going to teach me, send me to an orphanage. Because if you send me back, I swear on my parent's grave, I'll run away. I'm not, I repeat, am-"_ here Harry gave a stern gesture towards him, _"-**NOT** going back to live in that damn closet again!" _he signed, tears spilled down his cheeks and he wiped at them violently with the sleeve of his robe. Dumbledore's eyes looked a bit haunted as he spoke his words for him.

Snape raised an eyebrow, almost smirking, he had been fully prepared to hate the son of his enemy, but this boy was proving to have quite a bit of backbone. It was also quite amusing that it wasn't beyond young Mr. Potter to use blackmail to get what he wanted, emotional blackmail at that. Very Slytherin of him, he wondered briefly, if that was why the hat had taken so long to place him.

"Harry, we never meant for this to happen but for you to cast spells would be quite impossible-" McGonagall tried to soothe him, Harry glared at her and signed at her angrily while Dumbledore translated:

"_FINE! Then if I can't use magic you shouldn't have sent me that damn letter in the first place!"_

On his last word he turned and glared into the fire, presenting them all with his back just as the pitcher of water that was on the fireplace went flying furiously, of it's own accord, across the room into a wall, shattering into a million pieces, water splattering nearly everywhere.

Dumbledore had felt the surge of magic come from Harry to send the pitcher of water flying, and knew it had not been intentional but merely uncontrolled magic.

There were a few screams of fright but once the pieces clattered to the floor they went silent and looked to the Boy - Who - Lived, almost fearfully and in a bit of shock.

"Can't cast magic, you say?" Severus Snape sneered in amusement.

Flitwick was more than astonished. "Did you see that?!" he was saying over and over again excitedly.

Hagrid was giving Harry a frown of confusion, "Dumbledore sir, why is Harry looking away from us?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a glance than looked to his colleges and friends, "For the deaf, it is an insult done in anger to someone who has upset them. Because he cannot hear, turning away from you, and presenting you with his back, means they are going to ignore you. And it seems Mr. Potter is more than angry with us..." Dumbledore cast a glance to the broken water pitcher, "I believe he's furious-"

"W-well... i-if we ar-are to s-send him a-away, w-why don't we d-do as the b-boy wishes and se-send him to a-an orp-orphanage?" Quirrel asked.

"Because, we don't need another similarity between the Boy - Who - Lived and Lord Voldemort for the wizarding community to pick on. They might believe he will turn out just like him.... And because Harry's done nothing wrong we are not allowed to break his wand..." Dumbledore said ignoring the flinches around him as he mentioned the name of their most hated enemy.

"So what are we to do with him?" Sprout asked.

"Why don't you have Pomfrey check him out first, to see if this is reversible or not? And if it is beyond her knowledge, than take him to St. Mungo's?" Snape asked rather snidely, as if they should have been intelligent enough to think about that first. "We still need to know if it is permanent. Just because Muggle's cannot cure him does not mean we cannot."

Dumbledore nodded, slowly stepping towards the irate child who was still scowling into the fire. He touched the boy's shoulder and Harry flinched, jerking his body away from the older mans grasp. Nevertheless he still looked up into Albus' bright blue eyes glaring through tear filled emerald ones.

"Harry, we're going to have Madam Pomfrey, our nurse, take a look at you, it may be possible to reverse your hearing loss."

"_And if it isn't?! Then what?"_ he signed back with a sneer on his face that would have done Snape proud. In fact it almost did. Snape had to lower his chuckling a bit so he wouldn't be noticed.

"We don't know yet," Dumbledore replied.

"_That's not good enough! You're leaving me hanging again! And I want to know whether I should be prepared to have the worst fall of my life or not!"_ he signed back angrily.

"Are you sure the hat put him in the right house?" Hooch asked with a grin as Harry's signing was translated.

"The hat! Of course! It placed him!" Snape said.

"Wh-what dif-difference do-do-does t-t-that make?" Quirrel stuttered alarmed.

Snape favored him with a scowl, "One thing you all have failed to realize is that if we could NOT teach him and if Mr. Potter here was not MEANT to be taught, the hat would NOT have sorted him at all! Obviously it is our duty and responsibility to take care of this child! To leave him defenseless and in the Muggle world is like handing him his own death sentence. All it would take is time and Voldemort's return to end his life, or worse, we just may discourage him enough that he might actually JOIN and follow the dark lord, and we all just saw how good he is at casting wandless magic."

Sprout, McGonagall, and Flitwick looked absolutely thunderstruck while Hooch and Binn's nodded in agreement.

"Professer Snape is right!" said Hagrid, "We can't jus' turn 'im loose, that would be murder, the boy can' defend 'imself! And do you really want ta be known as part of the people who allowed Harry Potter the Boy - Who - 'ad - Lived, to die? I lov' the boy too much! And if yer gonna make 'im go, I'll let 'im liv' wit' me."

Harry was now looking intently at Snape and Hagrid, the only two that had given him a good defense. _"Thank you,"_ he signed to them both.

Snape waved the thank you off but Hagrid smiled at him kindly.

"Very well, we won't release him back into the Muggle world," Dumbledore agreed, "but we need to think about how we are going to teach him. Let us have Madam Pomfrey look at him as Professor Snape suggested, I, on the other hand am going to have a little talk with the sorting hat."

**Author Notes: **Preschool is underlined cause I've NO bloody clue what they call it in England. Dammit.


	3. Chapter Three: Classes

Hear With My Eyes, Speak With my Hands

Chapter 3

Diagnosis and Classes

"Well Mr. Potter, you're done, you can put your robe back on." Madam Pomfrey said while gathering up her supplies.

'What are the results?' Harry wrote on a pad of paper.

"Well... I don't have the ability to give you your hearing back... And to be honest, I don't know if it can be undone. You're going to have to see a specialist. I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to get you a Medi Witch or Wizard who will be able to more advanced and better tests." Harry's face fell and the witch put a hand on her shoulder, "Oh don't let it get you down Mr. Potter, I'm sure that it's not as bad as it seems..."

Harry nodded reluctantly. Did this mean he wouldn't be allowed to go? He bit back the taste of bile that was rising up his throat.

"Well, I see no reason for you to hold up here, I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to work out something by morning, Professor McGonagall is waiting right outside the door."

Harry slid off the bed and pattered off toward the door feeling remarkably sleepy he turned the brass handle and stepped into the cool corridor facing his head of house. "Well it's getting late, Mr. Potter, and you have a busy day tomorrow, so follow me and I'll lead you to your common room and dormitory."

"I can't believe it took us until the sorting to realize he was deaf!" Ron said in exasperation, Hermione was sitting nearby him (much to his annoyance) while he was talking to Fred and George, all three were seated on a group of comfy chairs. "I just assumed he was sick or something and couldn't talk at the time and I didn't want to ask-"_ 'Because I was already gaping over the fact he was THE Harry Potter, as it was.' _Ron thought to himself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Ron, you said so yourself just a few minutes ago that he was very quiet on the train and mainly let you talk." Fred said in a comforting manner.

"I assumed the same thing, besides, when I asked him if he was sick he just gave me this look and- - and I dropped the subject, I had thought he thought that my question was a bit too personal." Hermione admitted remembering distinctly how those green eyes had held hers, as if weighing and measuring her, she had almost felt bad about asking him what she had.

"But I still feel like an idiot!" Ron bemoaned miserably.

"If it helps any, you often look like one too," George added cheerfully.

Just as Ron was about to throw a retort at him, the common room door opened and Harry came in.

Harry felt a bit awkward being left on his own but (under order from McGonagall) the children who were still up and about in the common room didn't seem to be bothering him, Hermione and Ron went up to him anxious looks on their faces.

"Harry- - can you- - you know what were saying right?" Ron asked a bit hesitantly.

Harry shrugged and nodded and Ron looked a bit relieved. _'To a point.' _He wrote on his pad of paper. _'Speak clearly and slowly and usually I can read lips if they're words I know.'_

"Oh." Ron said after reading the paper with Hermione. "Well," he looked up to Harry. "It's late, what you say we head up to bed go get shut eye and face a confusing day of school tomorrow?"

Harry grinned and nodded waved goodnight to Hermione and climbed up the stairs with Ron. Ron opened a door off to the left and they walked down a hall. Soon enough they reached a door on the far right and Ron opened this one as well and let Harry walk in first. The room was circular and in the middle was a heater of sorts that Harry realized had to be fed coals to keep going, but there was no sign of a bag of coals anywhere, or a place for the fuel for that matter.

Five beds were placed headboard against the wall in a circle of sorts and three of them already held occupants. Harry's bed was near a window; Ron's bed was beside his. It seemed so big. Ron went over to his bed and began going through the wardrobe for a pair of pajamas while Harry went to his to do the same. A bed… all for him? The very fact felt alien to him but he welcomed such a truth with open arms. The door opened and in came a short slightly chubby boy with sandy brown hair and a shy demeanor. It was Neville, behind him two other boys came in and shut the door behind them.

"You- - You're Harry?" Neville asked, his head partially lowered. Harry paused still looking at him and nodded. "N-nice to meet you… I'm N- Neville."

"I'm Seamus Finnigan." Seamus said. Harry raised an eyebrow, the name inside his mind seemed a bit more… harder to understand. Pulling out his pad he wrote, Can you write that one down for me?

Seamus Finnigan.

Ah, there it was. He handed the pad to the other boy.

Dean Thomas.

'Nice to meet you both… I'm really tired… so don't mind me if I don't try and write at you too much.'

Both boys read the pad and nodded, then Neville glanced down and looked up, "Alright, night Harry."

For a few minutes all the sound in the room consisted of was drawers opening and closing, feet shuffling, leaving the room to brush their teeth, coming back in, moving covers about… And than silence was allowed to settle as they found comfortable positions on the bed. (Not that Harry heard any of this mind you.) Harry was asleep in minutes.

That night Harry had one of the most bizarre dreams he'd ever known. In it he was wearing Professor Quirrell's purple turban that kept speaking to him, whispering that he should transfer back to Slytherin immediately, because it was his destiny. No matter how many times Harry told the turban he was fine being in Gryffindor it would get heavier with each protest. When he had tried to yank it off in desperation it had tightened painfully - - and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it… Then Malfoy turned into Quirrell himself, whose laugh became high and cold— There was a burst of green light and suddenly Harry woke up, sweating and shaking badly from the nightmare.

What had caused that?! His mind flew over the main parts of what he could remember and then, after deciding whether or not to roll over and go back to sleep or not, turned towards his bedside table, grabbed the pad and paper and turned on the small lamp beside him. Harry was later glad that he had written it down, because after he'd finished writing up the last thing he could remember, it was then he realized he was forgetting the dream as quickly as it had come. With a yawn he put the pad back down, flicked off the light, and went back to sleep to gain what little sleep he had left.

The next morning after breakfast while searching for their class, Ronald Weasley was grateful that Harry was deaf. Hearing all those people talking about Harry as if he wasn't even there was a bit annoying. But Harry didn't need to have hearing to see the children who lingered in the halls and outside of the classroom just to catch a glimpse at him. And he could tell Harry found it rather awkward.

Harry meanwhile was busy trying to ignore the gawkers yet remember where his classes were and what facts he was told about the castle. There were one hundred and forty-two staircases total at Hogwarts. And they came in all shapes and sizes. So vastly different ranging from solidly safe to rickety dangerous that Harry found the idea itself fascinating. How had they been built? And how had students NOT been injured from some of the more dangerous areas? Some even led to different area's depending on the day of the weak, others had trick steps, Harry desperately hoped that no one had ever died because of the magical stairs. And the doors… The doors were mind boggling. Some had to be tickled, others needed passwords, polite requests… A few weren't even doors!

The people in the paintings weren't good to use as landmarks either, simply because the people in them liked to move around to visit other portraits. And Harry was willing to swear on a stack of bibles that the coats of armor's could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. No matter how often it happened, it was always a rather nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. The Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick was only too happy to give advice. Other ghosts, like the poltergeist Peeves caused an awful lot of trouble. And asking the Baron for help… well, Harry had yet to work up his Gryffindor courage for such a task.

The only thing that seemed to top Peeve's in the 'last things/people you want to run into while lost' list was Argus Filch, the caretaker of the school. That very morning Ron and Harry had been trying to get through a door they thought would get them to first period but were caught by Filch. It turned out that door had been the one leading to the third floor corridor, and no matter how Ron tried to explain (Harry didn't even TRY to write out anything to the man) that they were lost, Filch wouldn't listen or believe them. He was absolutely set in his belief that they were trying to get in on purpose that both were sure they would have ended up in a LOT of trouble had it not been from a wonderful rescue by one Professor Quirrell who had been passing by just at that moment. Harry was more than grateful, the idea of being chained to the dungeon wall had not been an appeasing thought. Even he had been able to understand the threat that Filch had given them.

After that Harry made doubly sure to be careful of what he did, especially when he knew Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was about. She had a habit of chasing off to her master just to make student lives miserable.

Classes themselves were a whole new ballgame for Harry. Magic wasn't as simple as they Muggles made it out to be… Or how Harry had thought it might be. Studying, writing papers, understanding concepts ideas, the correct wrist and wand movements, all had to be perfected and understood. Sometimes even your INTENTIONS could get in the way of performing a spell!

Maybe a Muggle orphanage wouldn't be so bad. No. A little extra work was nothing.

History of Magic had been easy but everyone looked as if they were about to keel over from boredom any minute, even Hermione, who'd been helping him the best she could, looked ready to faint from sleepiness. He supposed not hearing the teacher was what kept him awake. Professor Binns who taught the class was a ghost and facially seemed plain. And as Harry watched the ghost's lips, HE began to waiver. The man spoke slowly… and it seemed deaf or not, whatever was getting the class, would get him as well. So he stared straight at the chalkboard and scribbled down the notes as fast as he could, while the other children did the same (though some had a few ink splotches on their noses from having their head slip down onto their still damp paper).

Transfiguration had been a very big shock for Harry, McGonagall had spoken clearly and well and off to the side Harry could see a sheet of parchment lying on her desk, a quill zooming across the paper as she spoke. And than she changed her desk into a pig. Harry had gasped aloud, but he hadn't been the only one. Harry couldn't wait to get started but had been rather disappointed when he realized they would have to take down notes (that left his head spinning) and then was given a match. McGonagall pulled him over to the side and began speaking to him clearly, telling him to stop her if he needed something explained.

It turned out that the sheet of paper was charmed, the quill had been writing down what she had been saying. She set him about to reading it and afterwards began helping him with the wand and hand movements. The words… for the life of him he couldn't get the words out. She patted his shoulder and said he'd done just fine and that they'd work on it more later.

Charms had been similar, Professor Flitwick had the same quill zooming across a parchment and then made the class take notes. Afterwards he went up to Harry gave him the paper and began teaching the hand movements. But once again the spell couldn't be performed… Flitwick sighed, "I'll need more time to teach you one on one for you to continue Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded sadly but didn't let it show as much as possible.

By the end of the second day, Harry wondered when Dumbledore would talk to him again. So far he'd been unable to cast magic, and the only things he could do were write notes and work in Herbology and Astronomy. Was the headmaster trying to see how things would turn out? Was he being tested? Were things still being decided?

Beyond anything he hoped dearly they would let him stay, despite all the trouble and extra work it took, Harry was more than willing to go through with it if it meant he could stay in this whole new world he'd been introduced to. After dinner that night Harry confronted his head of house in her office with his inquiries.

'_Why haven't I been told whether or not I can stay?'_ he wrote down.

"Dumbledore is right now working with all your Professor's to try and develop a way so that you can cast and learn magic as easily as possible… and right now we haven't had a lot of time to plan, but he's coming up with many good ideas, as well as the others… We are doing our best so that you can stay. Headmaster Dumbledore will speak to you on Sunday about the matter… for now, just keep doing your best in your classes." She answered honestly after backtracking a few times to make sure he'd caught all that she'd said.

The next day the interesting class Harry had was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which turned out to be a big disappointment. For one, Harry could barely catch what Quirrell was saying half the time and ended up relying on Hermione's notes. For another his classroom smelled strongly of garlic. Harry, the several times he'd had to be near Quirrell so that Quirrell could speak to him one on one developed a headache after prolonged nearness. Harry was sure it was because of the funny smell from the turban… although he couldn't figure why he'd get such a headache from the smell of garlic and his professor's turban. When he told the Weasley twins about it they insisted that there was garlic stuffed in the turban as well and suggested that maybe Harry was allergic to garlic. The week passed quickly and soon enough it was Friday morning….

**Author Notes:** Sorry if it's annoying that I practically inserted from the book but I did my best. It felt weird to try and cut it out. Sooo... do forgive me. Hope you didn't die of boredom while reading this chapter.


	4. Chapter Four: Potions and More

Hear With My Eyes, Speak With My Hands

Chapter 4

Potions and More

"Let's see… We have our normal classes today… and double potions with Slytherins." Ron looked disgusted. Harry frowned and took a moment out of his time from eating sausage and mash to write out; _'They aren't all THAT bad…'_

"You have got to be kidding me, Harry! They're Slytherins! There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin!"

'_But in the history book we're reading there's mention of a man who was in Gryffindor who went bad.'_

Ron blinked, "Really?"

'_The house we are put in is only… to show us where our strengths are. It does not mean that is WHO we are, or what we can become. Slytherins generally can be thought of as shrew and mistrusting, but I think that's because they have to seem that way sometimes. I mean if you were to base it off of 'Slytherins are Evil' then technically Gryffindors are idiot martyr's and Ravenclaws are the brains, while Hufflepuffs are the hearts.'_

It took quite some time to jot that message down (luckily it was with a normal Muggle pen) and finally when he was done Ron read it and looked a bit… caught off. He wasn't sure he could fully comprehend what his friend was trying to say, but at the same time he could get the gist of it.

Not exactly sure what he could really say to that he shook his head, "I still am not looking forward to potions, Harry. I've heard horror stories from Fred and George about him."

Harry, hand cramping and stomach still half empty, decided to leave it at that. There were disadvantages at being unable to speak. Things he'd love to quickly say just couldn't be said when one had the disadvantage of not being able to speak.

Hedwig, his new snowy owl flew in right before they were ready to leave and Harry, wanting to at least give her something (seeing as he'd finished off HIS meal) snatched the last piece of bacon from Ron's plate, missing Ron's indignant, 'HEY!'.

He ripped it in half, gave the half to Ron and the other half he shredded and put in his hand. Seeing that there was a letter tied to her leg his eyes widened. He never got mail. Licking his greasy fingers clean (on the hand that wasn't holding the food), he picked up the letter and struggled to open it. It was from Hagrid asking for a visit at three o' clock. Sighing, Harry pulled out a pen and now that his left hand was free of food wiped it on his rumpled napkin and wrote back that he would be there with Ron.

'Someone needs to install a heater down here.' Harry thought to himself as he sat down at one of the tables.

Potions took place down in the dungeons, and while the trek had been sort of an adventure, the room felt a bit oppressive. Jars of God–Only–Knew–What were on shelves, in glass cabinets, and some on side tables. And none were labeled except for the ones in the glass cabinet.

Hermione sat next to Harry, Ron sat on the other side, trying to avoid the 'know – it – all'. Harry set his potions book before him as well as his notebook, and than waited, quill on table beside the inkbottle.

Professor Snape, came in from the back room, took roll call and entirely skipped Harry's name altogether it seemed. Not only that, there was no parchment or zooming quill anywhere in sight. How was he to know what Snape would be saying?

All in all, the class could have been worse. He paired them off into groups to make a potion to cure boils. Harry and Ron worked together while Neville and Seamus were beside them. Hermione was paired off with a girl from their year up in the other row.

Harry carefully read the instruction and they did the best they could, missing the praise that was being delivered to Draco Malfoy for his preparation skills. Harry didn't realize anything was wrong until the faint smell of smoke began reaching his nostrils. Something was off and it was close- -

He turned to his left and there was Neville and Seamus looking at their cauldron in horror. Their potion, which had been violet, was turning a sickly green- -

Fear stabbed itself directly into Harry's stomach as he dropped the empty glass tube and rushed forward and yanked Neville towards Seamus. Once they were close enough to Seamus he gave a final sharp pull, moving both Seamus and Neville another foot away from the cauldron. Had he waited longer, it would have been too late. The cauldron was already twisting into a melted mess of horror and clouds of green smoke were filling the air.

Snape, who had heard the sound of breaking glass turned just in time to see Mr. Potter grab the two boys and haul them away from a cauldron which- - was melting!

Students began screaming once they began to realize their shoes were being eaten away by the acidic potion and all were jumping onto their stools or tables to avoid it. Harry, Neville, and Seamus were backed up near the cabinets, safe from the potion.

But not from the Potion Professor's wrath. With a wave of his wand he wisked the potion away but left the horribly twisted cauldron where it was.

While Snape berated Neville and Seamus and correctly guessed how they had screwed up, Harry relaxed. They hadn't gotten hurt, which obviously they would have been had Harry not smelled that rather sharp tang in the air.

After Snape was done with his tirade he fixed his glare on them, particularly on Harry. How had HE known? He was a first year and wasn't even in their group…

Either he had seen what had happened and not warned them or…

"May I ask, how is it you KNEW that they had destroyed their potion, Mr. Potter? Did you know they were doing it wrong and let it happen?" he accused unfairly. Harry looked stunned. This wasn't quite the Snape he remembered from the meeting.

Harry shook his head. His pen and paper, being over by Ron he pointed to the mutated cauldron, and then to his nose and gave a helpless look.

Snape understood. His sense of smell was more than likely heightened. Loss of one sense usually resulted in the heightening of others… But still… damn his roll of playing the evil teacher.

"I'm sure, Mr. Potter." He sneered coldly, "One point will be deducted from Gryffindor for not making sure that they were making their potion properly." Harry looked flabbergasted, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Draco looked very smug. "And five points for destroying my classroom floor, Longbottom and Mr. Finnigan! Now remove that thing from my classroom." With that he turned and began ordering the rest of the class to clean up their stations.

Harry, angry at the injustice of it all gathered up his belongings and followed the class to the door.

Maybe he had been wrong about Slytherins. Maybe they were evil after all.

It was not until he had reached Hagrid's hut that he realized he'd left his notepad for writing messages, on the desk in the potions classroom.

Snape who had shut his classroom door after the last child had left gave his classroom a once over and raised an eyebrow. Where Harry Potter had been sitting was that notebook he used for writing. It was six inches wide and seven inches long. Curiously he opened it up and began flipping through the pages. Various messages were written in it. Some were rather interesting. As he flipped through he realized some were to Hagrid. Questions like,_ 'what's Quittich?'_. Snape assumed that Harry had been unable to understand the word that had been spoken. But it was interesting reading how Harry had wrote, _'I'm not a wizard, there's no way I could be.'_

But the one that had caught his attention was one of the more recent ones towards the back. It wasn't a message to anyone, nor was it written in a sloppy hand that would suggest he had been writing to someone in conversation.

And it started with, _'I don't know why, but I had the strangest nightmare… and for some reason Quirrel was in it….'_

He did not like what he read after that.

There was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to grit his teeth and go ask Professor Snape to be allowed to go into the potions classroom to get the notebook. Hopefully Snape wouldn't mind too much or get too angry.

So at dinner that night, Harry slowly worked up the courage to go to the staff table. He didn't want to go at the beginning. That'd gain too much attention… Maybe… towards the end… but if he waited too long Snape would be gone. So half way through the meal Harry swallowed hard and clutched the prewritten parchment he'd made. He'd not been able to 'talk' to others because of his lack of book.

When he stood up Ron looked at him, his mouth full of bread, "Whatz wong 'arry?"

Harry held up a finger to signify, 'In a minute' and slowly made his way to the table. His left hand in the pocket of his robes, clutching the paper. He saw that Dumbledore was looking at him, politely curious but continued his conversation with Sprout and Minerva opened her mouth to ask what he needed when she realized, he'd not be able to hear. Going directly to the end of the table, eyes on the floor, he stopped directly in front of Snape's spot.

Snape who had been watching him carefully raised an eyebrow as the boy finally seemed to gather his courage and lifted his head to look Snape in the eyes. Taking a small breath Harry handed him the paper. Snape read it and raised an eyebrow before looking Harry in the eye and spoke directly to him, but slow enough for Harry to understand.

"Mr. Potter," he intoned silkily. Several of the professors were watching them out of the corner of their eyes when they weren't busy with something else, "You may come down to get your notebook from my class, but I do not wish to be inconvenienced again after this. Do you understand?" Harry nodded once, never taking his green eyes off of Snape's black ones. "You can come and get it from me at seven thirty. Not one minute later. Or you will be working through a detention to get it back, even if it is your only way of communicating. Understand?"

Harry nodded. He then signed an apology.

"I do not understand that." Snape snarled.

"He was apologizing to you, Severus." Albus translated easily, Harry didn't know this, but glanced over his shoulder when Snape's vision shifted from him to behind him.

"I see." Snape said.

"I suggest you memorize that sign Severus. For when Harry doesn't have quill and paper." Albus said softly.

Snape nodded, "You can go now, boy."

Snape nodded and Harry gestured a 'thank you' before turning and all but running to the Gryffindor table in both fear and relief. Noticing that many of the students were staring at him. He slid in between Neville and Ron and let out a breath.

"You're braver than me." Neville said to Harry after tapping his shoulder to gain his attention.

At seven thirty Harry was down in the dungeons, on the button. Detention was a rather inspiring thought for timeliness. He knocked on the door and entered. Snape was behind his desk, writing on some papers. When Harry had reached the desk he realized that it was in red ink.

Snape muttered a single word and gave Harry his book. Harry couldn't make it out simply because his head was bent over the paper, the shadows hiding his face. Harry took it and wished he could at least say, 'Thank You'. So he made a sound in his throat that he hoped sounded grateful.

His Professor glanced up at him and raised his face into the light, "You know how to speak, why don't you?" he asked a bit accusingly. Harry shook his head, eyes wide.

"Ungh." was all he could force out. He opened his book and looked at Snape and held out his hand, silently asking for the quill. Hesitantly Snape handed it to him and Harry wrote out. 'That day in the great hall was the first time I've ever done that… I don't know if I can do it again… I don't even know what sounds I'm making…'

"I see." Snape said. "Well, I suppose we will have to work on that… You are dismissed." he gestured towards the door and Harry left quickly.


	5. Chapter Five: Tea Time Chats

Hear With My Eyes Speak With My Hands

Chapter 5

Tea Time Chat

"Severus?"

Snape gave Dumbledore a glare but kept his arms firmly crossed in front of him. "I know you heard me, I am very serious. I wish for you to teach me Sign Langauge. How else am I to communicate with that child?"

Dumbledore hid a small smile behind his cup of tea. Severus' glare intesified. That meant his eyes were giving him away. Ah, well...

"Very well, Severus, I'm very happy that you've taken such a view on this. I know that if Harry cannot learn everything, he will learn all that he can. But there are a few more problems with Mr. Potter refusing to go back to his relatives."

Snape realized that this was obviously not going to be as cut and dry as he wanted so he sat down in a chair. "Do you mean the fact Muggles will have to deal with Wizarding Child Protection Agents?"

"That is the easy part. The hard part is... the spell protecting Mr. Potter from Voldemort or any of his followers is tied in with him and his relatives. His Aunt is of his mothers blood, so I... cast a charm between herself and Harry. So long as he is within his family's house, he shall be safe. Of course leaving for Hogwart's isn't a problem, he's quite safe within these walls. But once a year he must go back or the spell will weaken and break." Dumbledore took another drink from his cup. "And if it breaks, how to protect Harry when he is not within these walls is going to become difficult. And we can't allow him to go back to a neglectful family, than even I would be in grave trouble with the W.C.P. for failing to report such a situation."

Snape frowned. Placing the child somewhere safe during the summer would be a difficult task indeed. And finding a legal gaurdian even more difficult.

"Albus, you just said that it would be difficult to keep him safe outside these walls. Am I to assume this means you've gone against all better judgement and have decided to keep him enrolled?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"You put it into perspective the night of the sorting, Severus. He wouldn't have been sorted if he couldn't be taught something. We are just going to have to put a lot of effort into teaching him. It's a shame there is no school to teach children like him, but it's so rare that a wizarding child be disabled in such a way that it might be impossible to teach them. We forget that even we wizards do not have the potions or spells to fix everything." Dumbledore shook his head and put his tea down. "He may not be able to graduate in seven years, but we will do our best by him. I already have an appointment with St. Mungo's to have a look at him. His appointment is next week."

"Do you really think that St. Mungo's will be able to help him?" Severus frowned disbelievingly.

"I don't know... I'd like to think so but somehow I am fairly sure that it is connected with what happened the night that Voldemort attacked. And we can't be sure if it can be undone."

Snape pulled out his wand and with a flick a cup of tea was poured into a cup for himself. "When will you begin teaching my 'sign langauge', than?"

"I do believe starting now wouldn't go amiss." Dumbledore smiled and began his first lesson.

**Author Notes: **Can we say, incredibly short? I wanted to post SOMETHING for Christmas. I swear this story is not dead. It's just taken me this long to do something about it. Not to mention the people who I was in contact with who knew what I didn't about being deaf, I've lost contact with. Sigh.

And have I mentioned how amazed I am at the amount of reviews I've gotten on this story. I really appreciate them. If I didn't I wouldn't have kicked myself outta my writers block the way I did. I will write more. Honest!

Bows to my readers Thank you.


	6. Chapter 6: Silent Spell

A/N: I swear on a pile of chocolate covered Legolas' that I'm not through with this story at all! See? Here! An offering! If you ever want to contact me my email is: Lina Inverse the Dramata yahoo. com Okay if you copy and paste remember to remove the spaces from wherever they are. (If it helps there are supposed to be no spaces in my email at all.)For some reason Ffnet doesn't let you post websites or addy's unless you tricksy a way past their lil filters.

Hear With My Eyes Speak With My Hands

Chapter 6

Silent Spell

'Wingardium Leviosa... Wing- Blast!'

The feather hadn't so much as twitched. His face was turned down in disgust, anger, and disappointment. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to Hermione who was giving him a sympathetic look.

"Harry, don't feel bad... We aren't supposed to learn how to do silent spells until our sixth year. It takes a lot of power, practice, and time to learn. To learn this will be hard." She smiled at him and then turned back to her book of History of Magic.

Harry in response felt a bit of hope stir in him.

Six days had gone by. She was right. He should have more patience. Six days of practicing compared to six years... His resolve strengthened. It didn't hurt that they'd allowed him to use the sorting hat. Hermione had said she overhead a conversation amongst the older students who'd over heard some of the professors... it seemed a few of the teachers had been shocked and in disagreement to let such a relic into the hands of a student. Even into the famous Harry Potter's hands. But under the restriction that he could only use it during classes and had to return it to Professor McGonagall by the end of classes, he'd been allowed it's use.

How could he explain to Dumbledore how he felt torn between fear and joy at being able to hear and listen. Even if it was only to and from the hat? To 'hear' the words in his head... was so difficult. Because it was never quite as he'd imagined the words... and on the third day of its use... He'd started having dreams of words. That he couldn't understand. Yet knew he should have. Words that had been spoken long ago.

Or maybe it was his overactive imagination. Even if he had had hearing as a child... it's not like he remembered anything before the Dursley's.

But if all went well. He'd never have to go back. And he'd found a new home in Hogwart's... even if only for the school year.

He looked up to Ron who was chewing on his wilting quill and trying to finish up his potions paper. Harry smiled. Truly he had found friends within Ron and Hermione. He'd never had friends before. But if he had to hazard a guess... perhaps this is what friendship was. They aided him and spoke with him and tried their best to treat him with consideration. And they, like Ron's twins brothers, played games with him and talked of things outside of school work.

Had it not been for their help, he was sure he would have fallen behind several days before hand.

His musings were interrupted as he realized that Ron's bright red hair... was slowly turning... green. Harry's eyes went wide. What on - -

Then it began growing.

"What the- -!" Ron stood up and grabbed a hold of a length of it and gazed on it in horror. Some of the strands were silver.

From what Harry could see, many of the children were laughing. Fred was grinning. George was slowly moving away from his twin. Ron began yelling at Fred and while Ron's words were lost to the silence that was Harry's life, Fred's words were easy to read. "Calm down, Ron. I was just trying out a new spell- - and Harry looked like he could do with the cheering up. Speaking of which- -" he glanced at Harry then to his twin who'd sat down next to Harry and had stolen his charms book from him.

"Practicing the good old floating spell I see... Now that's one spell I can do without words... want me to explain the basics of how I do it?" George glanced at Harry curiously who nodded.

Ron sat back down and had turned his wand on himself but Hermione quickly stopped him with her hand and with her free one waved her wand once over his head and his hair was back to being it's vivid carrot-like colour.

"Okay, well to cast a spell without words what you should do is practice the wand movements first until you have them perfect. When you go silent like, you concentrate more on the physical aspects so that _that _particular hurdle is out of the way. Next you picture what you want to happen in your head. All the while chanting the spell. Even if you have to repeat it more then once. The first time is the most difficult. Eventually though, after a few times, it's like using a muscle... the more you use it, the stronger it gets and the easier it is to cast. So that eventually you only need to say the words once in your head... here lets start with your hand movements- -"

-------

"Severus the symbol you just did was incorrect... you just said something rather inappropriate actually- - here, its more like this-" Dumbledore went over the gesture again and Severus mimicked it perfectly this time, perhaps to avoid embarrassing himself further without meaning to.

"Yes, excellent. Now why don't you show me how to do the symbols we just went through?" As he spoke, every word he signed. He did this because he wanted Severus to get used to seeing the language constantly. And he did this a bit slowly so that Severus could at least try and connect the words with the movements. Harry Potter would have much to fear once the year was over. Severus was particularly careful at making sure he learned the insults in it as well. He would make sure the child did not have a chance to mouth off to him or insult him behind his back just because Severus couldn't fluently understand the child's language. This had amused Dumbledore but in the end he had given Severus a guideline of sorts for the more obvious insults. The more subtle... well...

He was Slytherin enough to fend for himself.

Each night Severus had come to meet with Dumbledore and sometimes he was there for half an hour... sometimes an hour. All depending on his free time.

After he'd gone over the basics of the day he gave Dumbledore a guarded, yet curious look. "So how has Mr. Potter been doing with the sorting hat relaying the classes to him?"

"He seems to be having his own ups and downs with it... and of course, some unexpected developments have occurred," Severus raised an eyebrow, "Not on a miraculous level, just an interesting one... But he seems to be doing well. The hat himself suggested he be used to relay the lessons to Mr. Potter. Which I'm glad he came up with. The school board has written me and I'm afraid a few of them have been giving me a few problems... not to mention the letter I received from Fudge."

Severus scowled at the mere mention of the name. "What did that... Man," he fought to keep his lip from curling up in disdain, "have to say?"

"That Harry be placed in special care and classes... amongst other things." he frowned. "And of course the Daily Prophet was the cause of several letters as well, delivered by well meaning wizards and witches..." Severus highly doubted they'd been such. What was it with people and snooping their noses into people's business' that were not their own? "Poppy will be taking Mr. Potter to St. Mungo's on Wednesday and will be gone for the day, and on a slim chance might be there through the day. He should return no later than Thursday night."

So Potter might miss a potions class? He'd make sure to set aside a bit of extra homework for him. To miss brewing a potion was nothing short of blasphemy. But there was no way to avoid this. Besides, he couldn't have anyone believing him to be easy on those who would miss his classes. Give children an inch...

- - -

Professor McGonagall watched feeling an amount of pity and hope for her student as he desperately tried to cast a spell that would have been difficult for an inexperienced wizard child to cast in the first place, but was made doubly so by him having to cast it within his own mind. Few sixth years could cast a spell silently within the first few weeks of practicing silent spells- and that was after years of doing the spell. It was disheartening, but at the same time, she couldn't help but think Harry looked pathetically adorable with the large sorting hat trying to slip down to his nose while he tried the wand movements over and over again.

"Mr. Potter," she said soothingly, he turned, to look curiously at her. "Wing-gar-dee-um Lev-ee-o-sa." As she said this she stood behind him, took his hand in hers and moved his wand up and down, back and sideways, all in time with the words. She did this twice then released him. Looking more determined then ever he all but glared at the feather on the table.

He _had_ to get this right! His next class was charms and it was the last class of learning this spell, and while all but a few had gotten the spell down, he had yet to successfully have a _breeze_ move his feather. He couldn't fall behind. He just COULDN'T.

Professor McGonagall had agreed to helping him with it ONLY if he finished the paper work for the day in class and at least spent ten minutes practicing her spell for the week. If he finished soon enough, she had promised to help him for the last bit of her class (which would be when all the students would be practicing hands on.) And in return he was to practice an extra half hour with her after all the classes were released.

_'WINGARDIUM LEVIOUSA!' _

And then he felt it. Something he hadn't felt since the day he'd ended up on the rooftop. But instead of feeling like his insides were collapsing in on himself and feeling as if he'd just blinked and ended up fifty feet away from his original destination- - it was a warm tug through out his arm- - that went through his body - tugged on his naval- - went right back out the wand and -

Minerva McGonagall let out a cry of joy when the feather took flight- - losing all professional bearing within the fact that Harry Potter had cast his first authentic spell. It didn't even matter to her that it hadn't been a transfiguration one either. Tears in her eyes and resisting the urge to hug him she put a hand on his shoulder once she saw him lower the feather back down.

He turned to her, astonishment on his face, and the question in his eyes being understandable, even without words, "You did wonderfully!" she assured him, "I'm very proud of you Mr. Potter. And once Professor Flitwick hears about this, he will be too."

The sorting hat repeated these words to her and Harry blushed looking down at his trainers. He'd never had someone be proud of _him_ before. A warm sensation settled itself in his stomach and on his cheeks and ears. He had a feeling to feel like this again, he'd do anything to make his professors proud of him.

It was at that moment he wished with all his heart that he could know what SHE had sounded like saying those words to him. Hearing the hat was one thing... but to only know his voice when it occurred to Harry that there was sure to be so many other different ones- -

He lifted his head and smiled sheepishly at her and gestured to her, _'Thank You.' _

And then she did something he'd not expected at all.

_'You're welcome, Harry.' _

She had signed to him.

- - - -

"Oh Harry, you did it!" Hermione threw himself into Harry's arms and hugged him tightly before jumping back, a blush on her face, "Oh! Sorry!"

Harry felt his cheeks warm himself. He'd not been hugged before. (Or at least the author doesn't remember him getting hugged in her story. Bear with me here.) And while he'd found it slightly pleasant, he was highly not used to much tactile contact, and therefor was not sure if it was proper and would never be able to initiate said contact of his own volition.

He took out a pad of paper and wrote for her; '_It took me long enough!'_

"I'm so happy for you! Professor Flitwick will be ecstatic for you! We have him after D.A.D.A.!" she looked as if she were ready to grab and hug him again and he felt his back tense, but she didn't and his muscles relaxed.

Harry sighed, D.A.D.A was quickly becoming his not - so - favorite class. He smelled funny, and the twitch was becoming quickly irritating. It didn't help that even the sorting hat wasn't so happy around him either. Because Phil (which is what Harry had finally named him. It had seemed awfully rude to keep calling his translator a 'hat'.) had been able to feel and sense what Harry did when around the man. Which were the dull and (now and then) sharp pains that always seemed to originate from his head. In particular, his scar. Harry had a feeling that perhaps the dank dungeon (or maybe what was in it) were the reasons for his headaches. But if that were true, then wouldn't Potions have been just as equally torturous?

With those cheery thoughts and the not so wonderful class ahead of him he sighed, hoping that this time his head wouldn't hurt quite as much this time.

- - - -

"Excellent! Treacle tarts!" Ron grabbed at said pasty and shoved half of it into his mouth in the first bite.

Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust, "You're a pig!"

Ron who was about to answer with a mouth full of tart all but choked on it when he saw who was standing behind both Hermione and Harry.

They both stared at him in bewilderment as he coughed into his napkin.

_"Swallowing works much better then inhaling."_

Harry didn't jump, because the voice was always the same (another disadvantage) so for all he knew, it had been Hermione to say it- - which it wasn't because for some reason she'd opened her mouth (he assumed it was in a squeak or screech) in surprise and all but jumped up and fell over, now looking behind Harry. Harry twisted to look behind him. And would have stood had Professor Dumbledore not put a hand on his shoulder.

_"I wish to congratulate you, Mr. Potter. For casting your first spell. Professor McGonagall was quite enthusiastic and happy for you. And Professor Flitwick is looking forward to seeing you in class after lunch." _

Harry nodded, it was always such a relief to have someone sign and speak at him.

_'I also wanted to inform you that you have an appointment at St. Mungo's on Wednesday,' _this he only signed. _'I'm not sure how long you'll be there, but you will be back for Friday morning classes at the very least.' _

Harry nodded, '_Yes sir.' _

'But back to what I said before, I am very proud of you. You will not have an easy time, you will be struggling against yourself, spells, and even the wizarding world. But you are a strong boy, and I'm sure you will pull through these difficult times. I will be helping Professor McGonagall teach you after school. I'd like to see how exactly you are casting without words and from there we shall see if we can alter or do something about the way you cast spells, or the spells themselves, to make it easier for you. I'm very good at altering spells for the need, if I say so myself.' Harry's eyes were wide. He'd have the headmaster helping him? Was this normal? Dumbledore then smiled and spoke while he signed;_ "Well, enjoy your lunch Mr. Potter."_

'_Thank you_.'

"What on earth was that all about?" Ron asked in bewilderment, his throat now clear of his dessert. But Harry had dug into his lunch already.

TBC...


End file.
